


i can't believe this is the ONLY fic written for this pairing on AO3 what is WRONG with yall

by indications



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: M/M, PWP, xeno genitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-07 21:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20457107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indications/pseuds/indications
Summary: “Ooh Zaddy Kibito,” Shin croons, sexily. “You are such a skilled lover in addition to your many qualities of character. You do me so good I’m already starting to recover from my stressful, traumatic stint as the Headest Honcho I never really wanted to be.”“I’faith I besmooch thee,” Kibito responds huskily, and besmooches his Lord And Master thoroughly.The planets quiver, the stars align, the heavens’ chorus which had heretofore held itself to reverent susurrus breaks into wild peals of ecstasy. Orgasms are mutually enjoyed, and probably there’s a cheesy aside about celestial harmony to close out what was meant, I swear, to be a mere 3k pwp about the Galactic King of the Twinks and his devoted Beefcakes In Chief.***YAOI LEMON DONT LIKE DONT READ





	i can't believe this is the ONLY fic written for this pairing on AO3 what is WRONG with yall

**Author's Note:**

> Like most fic I write, I talked myself into this after realizing the thing I thought was Obviously For Sure out there (tender power bottom Shin/service top Kibito) apparently doesn’t exist at all. Shame on you all for not acknowledging that these two Dragon Ball Z characters Fuck by writing excruciatingly detailed xeno porn about it. Do I have to do everything myself around here?  
If for some reason you’re still with me: it’s PIV-analogous Alien Fuckin with a Lot of Shin’s internal monologue.  
Dragon Ball Super? Don’t know her.  
ETA: OH i almost forgot Elder Kai whatever fucked off to Space Vegas for this whole thing presumably because i am NOT dealing with that it took 10k just to make them fuck with no bg/plot like

For a long, dizzying moment, their vision is split, refracted. Off-kilter, they stumble, still in sync, and then it’s over, as though it had never been. The two of them stand side by side, new to themselves again.

In the millennia that had preceded their accidental fusion, so many things had disappeared under the wear of repetition. Fused, they’d been another. Now as many things have become unfamiliar, thrilling in their novelty.

Kibito Kai, as they’d been called, had been tall and strongly built. Shin had quickly grown accustomed to his stature, and privately he’d rather enjoyed its frivolous advantages– not the strength, even, as much as the form. Before, he’d had little reason to consider his body’s aesthetic, and yet being returned to himself, he is surprised to find he’s – well. It’s not a _surprise_, per se, he is not _so_ unaccustomed to his old (new) body, but. He’s _dainty_. He’s slim and fine-featured and light, quite light enough that Kibito could lift him without the slightest effort.

Silly. To think of himself in this way. To think of Kibito _lifting_ him – he levitates as easily as he breathes, and any utility foreshortened by his physical form is infinitely compensated by his expertise in energy manipulation. Only now – the threat of Majinn Buu long since nullified, the universe as peaceful as it was in the days before Bibidi, the future of the worlds secured in the hands of warriors each more powerful than even he – now silly, frivolous thoughts need little banishing. Practically speaking, he might do well to entertain them, to know himself, while there is no looming crisis to distract him.

His abilities need honing, it’s true. He cannot leave the security of the galaxies to mortal hands, and the other duties he’d neglected chasing Buu need attending. There is plenty to keep him occupied, and it is not his way to indulge idle pursuits to the exclusion of _anything_ else. And yet even with his efforts in these areas redoubled, he finds more time than he needs to simply be, in ways he has never been – introspective, meditative, yes, but also (and no less), well, frivolous.

And why not? His late master had tried to teach him that idleness could yield fruits as great as those nurtured in diligence, and that a balance of pleasure with responsibility would be his key to true self-refinement. He’d had no opportunity for the former, and now that peace has settled on his universe at last, and he finds himself freed of the weight of ever-impending doom, it seems fitting that his very body should be his own again, as if for the first time.

In the days that follow their rending, the Supreme Kai and his faithful attendant dance a patient, tentative dance. There is new reverence in him for Kibito’s manner, the familiar lines of his face, the timbre of his voice. They’d been excellent as one, it’s true, but Shin is amazed at how dearly he’d missed being two: how he’d longed, in some part of himself hidden or not yet existing, to see Kibito himself again.

He finds it preferable to look him in the eye when they talk at length, and though he knows he’d once have simply held himself at the appropriate height whenever it suited him, now he cannot recall how much distance to give himself. That dear face, serious and wry, holds his attention as never before, and he reasons that, having been one being not so long ago, it isn’t so rude to err a little close. It is never quite as close as he’d like, and so he finds himself steadying their distance with a hand on Kibito’s shoulder. An arm’s length is a fine rubric, he tells himself, and Kibito seems hardly to mind.

It occurs to him to observe the usual conventions regarding Kibito’s mental privacy, of course, but too the influence of his mind on Shin’s has become so familiar he notices himself skimming just under the surface of where he’d usually draw up short. The shallow emotional shadows ever-present in the undisciplined mind; the petty thoughts which bubble up to wait at the tip of a person’s tongue: these are considered fair game, no more intrusive than a close reading of posture and expression. With Kibito, though, he delves deeper – not too deeply, he’s sure, but just enough to catch himself doing it, to recognize in himself a new hunger to _know_ him, intimately, sincerely.

While he watches his own habits changing, he senses Kibito unsettled as well. There’s a tension between them which must have its roots in their regaining their own minds and bodies, the time they spent as one reconfiguring their relationship to one another. While Shin finds himself freer with Kibito’s boundaries, Kibito seems more interested in reestablishing their roles as master and attendant. Yet he makes no attempt to hide his pleasure at being intruded upon, mentally or physically. Rather, with Shin’s hand on his shoulder, a sort of flush comes over him, his complexion tending magenta, a half-smile tucked in one corner of his mouth. He never attempts to return the touch, and his speech, already formal, turns almost courtly. In his posture, though, he seems almost yearning: his shoulders back, his palms forward, his chin up as if to bare his throat. It looks like an invitation. Yet it is the temper of his mind in these moments which gives the most away. He is never so open and so still as he is with Shin’s hand on his shoulder, looking up at him as if this is how he’d prefer to see his master always. His mind becomes an instant echo of the pressure of Shin’s touch, the distance between their bodies, the expression on his face. It is like gazing into a mirror which loves what it reflects. Neither thought nor instinct intrude.

He ruminates on this change without puzzlement. It is a natural course, this deepening regard, and he has come to care for Kibito far beyond the esteem which would, regardless, be his due for the millennia of his unerring loyalty. Examining his own feelings yields no particular revelation. Yet the tension between them remains. Perhaps it is the obvious fact of their lingering consonance; perhaps this explains his unutterable desire to draw Kibito to him physically, his reluctance to be far from him if he can avoid it. A sort of post-fusion hangover, to put it crassly.

He allows them both some time to settle into a new status quo, but rather than regaining their old rapport, he begins even to feel irritated at their separation. His own inability to articulate the feeling confuses him. He finds he wants Kibito closer than arm’s length from him, that what had been a steadying measure of appropriate distance becomes an imposition. He takes to speaking to him with his elbow bent, the full length of his forearm along Kibito’s chest. The desire for closeness does not abate, but rather increases, and Kibito does not once shy from him. Rather, boldly, he rests his own hand under Shin’s elbow, as if to support him; Shin catches his own hand creeping inwards, to touch the side of Kibito’s neck. It is hardly proper, and yet it is once again just the two of them in this sacred, lonely land, so there is no audience to admonish them.

Kibito is the first to break their strange new habit, preempting Shin’s rise to his level by dropping to one knee. At first, he’s taken aback, and in truth Kibito looks amazed at his own audacity. His mouth opens, then closes, but he seems to have nothing to say for himself. Shin steps into his space, places the usual hand on Kibito’s shoulder. His attendant relaxes incrementally at that, but there is a self-conscious blush in his cheeks and a furrow to his brow. _What am I doing_, he thinks, _Master must think me ridiculous_. He has to rest his weight fully on his heel to make up for the difference in their size, and still Shin comes just to his eye level this way.

He realizes he has straightened his back to stand at his full height. When did this become important to them? Before, he was used to addressing Kibito with his own feet on the ground, and never has he been uncomfortable with merely tilting his head to hold eye contact. Now Kibito kneels as if in supplication, an unknown anxiety between them.

Shin puts his hand to Kibito’s neck, even almost cupping his cheek. This had been his own intention all along, he knows: more touch, less distance. Kibito leans into the touch as if his whole being covets it, yet he dares not lift a hand.

“A new manner of meeting my eyes,” Shin says, a mere statement of fact, and yet Kibito blushes deeper all the same.

“Forgive my presumption, master,” he says. “If you’d prefer I stand…”

“No.” Curious – Shin doesn’t feel himself smile, but he hears it in his own voice. “You only surprised me. Is this what you’d prefer?” he asks, allowing his thumb to graze Kibito’s cheek. “Kneeling?”

“I,” he says. The color in his cheeks is spreading rapidly about his face and his ears. “I thought it – proper – you’ve taken to addressing me from a closer distance and I – it seemed fitting that – if that were to be your preference, I – that I should kneel,” he fumbles out. He seems to be struggling to hold eye contact; Shin, meanwhile, finds himself grinning. He’s _giddy_.

“There’s something about this,” he muses, and there goes his thumb against Kibito’s cheek again. It seems to have a mind of its own. He allows his thumb its stroke, watching as Kibito reddens bit by bit to a fine shade, orchid-bright and twice as lovely. “I rarely felt the urge to speak to you face-to-face this way before we fused. I haven’t been able to decide if our fusion marks the inception of this desire, or if it had begun to grow long before that. In my attempts to recall, it seems there is no beginning to it. And now,” he murmurs, “I cannot predict its conclusion.”

“Master,” Kibito says, soft and almost hoarse, as though that is all the breath he can manage. He says nothing else, just ‘Master’, beseechingly.

“I think I’d like to kiss you,” he says, idly, easily, the realization coming aloud unfiltered. It doesn’t trouble him, and after a moment’s consideration, it even seems natural. “Would you like that?”

“I,” he says. Not so, it seems, for Kibito – struck dumb, he only stares, his lips half-parted and not attempting to form words.

Shin gives him a moment. He has seen Kibito – proper, decorous, reserved – shocked to silence by less. His patience is rewarded momentarily, but it takes Kibito casting his eyes downward for him to speak. “If that is what you’d like.”

“I want to know if you would like it. Independently of what I-”

“Yes,” he blurts, and then his mouth snaps shut, as if the word had burst out of him unintentionally. When Shin does not admonish him, he eventually mumbles, “I would like for you to kiss me. It was merely... unexpected.”

“It seems the logical next step, does it not? I find myself so drawn to you of late.” Though it might be more accurate to say he has only felt the urging of his own heart now that it is novel. As the proverbial slow-warmed frog cannot sense when the heat begins to endanger it, he is amazed he had never thought to kiss Kibito before. The bright ache in his chest, his thumb still petting Kibito’s cheek of its own accord! How absurd to say ‘of late’ when the feeling is so familiar. How absurd to contemplate such things now, with Kibito kneeling before him, only – if only the poor dear would meet his gaze!

At last, though, he lifts his eyes. Shin brings his other hand up, holds Kibito’s face between them. A moment’s more pause in which to appreciate that expression, earnest and shy. Shin kisses him, chaste, gentle, and feels Kibito’s hand settle lightly on his back. The other comes to rest, a moment later, just below it. Encircled in his arms, then, and the warmth between them unabating, Shin braves a second kiss, lingers there a moment longer. Kibito’s arms tighten around him just slightly. He may even be unaware of it.

He opens his eyes again before Kibito does, and before him is a face slack in rapture, the usual furrow smoothed from his brow. The rush of affection he feels nearly overwhelms him, and he finds himself pressed fully to Kibito’s chest, kissing him again and again in quick pecks – two, three, four – across his mouth and cheeks. A helpless grin prevents his continuing, and now Kibito is smiling, too, and squeezing him gently closer. They both laugh, their faces pressed together. Shin rests his forehead against Kibito’s, feeling effervescent with joy.

“You surprise me, my lord,” Kibito murmurs.

Shin cannot quite stop laughing. “I surprise myself,” he says. “What a thrill! I hadn’t expected kissing to be such fun.”

Kibito leans back from him slightly, regards him with new seriousness. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve never-?”

“Well, millennia ago,” he admits. “When I was newly formed, and I had peers with whom to practice – a kiss on the hand or the cheek, I’m sure. I can’t fully recall, now. My memories of that time are – faded,” he says, which is only partly the truth. Rather, they are buried, now, with those that populate them, and best left to rest. Kibito knows this, of course, which may explain his now solemn expression. Ah, the mood shifts quickly when one speaks of such things. “I suppose it’s never too late to try it, though. Perhaps you and I could practice?”

There’s that look again, which Kibito wears so well: scandalized, but unable to protest, while unbidden, underneath, a flash of something rather more prurient which is quickly and abashedly stifled. Shin rebukes himself for his prying, which has now apparently become unconscious – to think he has become so accustomed to treating Kibito’s mind as his own purview!

“If that would please you, master.” Kibito says.

Despite himself, Shin smiles again. Their closeness has granted him this insight: Kibito’s formal manner belies the deepest affection, and the _by-your-leave, if-it-please-you_ rhythm of his address is simply too endearing to bother telling him (and they both know) that he could drop the formality altogether if he chose. Instead Shin takes his deference for what it is, quietly, each time: a declaration of fidelity, of devotion.

“You please me greatly, my dear,” he says, and Kibito blushes rose and plum, sweeter still for how he lifts his chin and closes his eyes as Shin closes the space between them. He offers himself, and Shin eagerly accepts.

This kiss is deeper, and it lasts, and no conclusion presents itself. Rather, one kiss begets another, and another in succession, and with each the heat and desire and giddiness all build and swirl about inside him. It’s dizzying, the way it seems not to abate but only to increase with each moment. True to his word, Kibito guides him, somehow still submissively, parting his lips and stroking his back encouragingly, and they kiss and they kiss until they are both short of breath, and still desire spurs him onward.

It is not enough merely to kiss him. Shin tugs him closer still, his hands moving of their own accord to the back of Kibito’s neck, fingers threading into his lovely thick hair. His heart pounds and his fingers curl into Kibito’s hair and he forgets, temporarily, the very universe apart from the two of them. How captivating he is! And what a feeling! Had such unremarkable fleshly pursuits as being kissed always hidden such euphoria? He notes, with increasing concern, that he’s even gotten aroused, that at some point between one kiss and the next his affection has taken on a decidedly sexual character.

Having never experienced it himself, Shin is nonetheless thoroughly knowledgeable regarding the practical considerations of sex. It is continually pursued across, even _beyond_ the lifetimes of most sentient beings in this universe, after all, among the briefest-lived mortals and the venerated dead and the immortal ones that guard them. Even Kais apparently maintain an interest, though he would have preferred _that_ knowledge come from another source than an ancestor so openly preoccupied with it. Still, theoretical awareness is proving to be a sterile, incomplete template for the current tide threatening to drown his own mental faculties. He had been aware, of course, of the addling effects of arousal on the mind, of the inconvenient tells evidenced in the body, but he had never felt inclined to attempt any instructive self-stimulation – what need was there? He’d lacked both the desire and the free time to do so, and now there is no sense regretting what would have been, previously, a _truly _frivolous endeavor.

And yet. Alas, this runaway experiment into his own capacity for physical affection has yielded predictable fruit. Namely, in his inconsiderate body’s enthusiasm for its proximity to Kibito’s. Enjoyable as it has been – distractingly, engrossingly enjoyable – he fears that if he continues down this path he will embarrass them both.

If he hasn’t already.

“Kibito,” he says, reluctantly extricating himself from the delightful ministrations of his attendant. “I’m afraid we must – pause briefly.” His breath seems insufficient to speak clearly. He finds himself panting slightly, as though kissing is a great labor to his inexperienced body. He’s hot, even sweating. Kibito looks in a similar state. Shin sees, too, that he’s rather disheveled Kibito’s hair, perhaps having clutched him too passionately without realizing it.

“I–” Kibito retracts somewhat, and at that Shin realizes he’s nearly wrapped himself around Kibito’s body – neither of his feet are on the ground anymore. One is even, mortifyingly, planted right on his attendant’s bent leg. “I apologize if I was too forward, master-”

“Not at all!” He attempts to recover some portion of his dignity without telegraphing his retreat, but there is no way to hide the fact that he’s been unconsciously _climbing_ Kibito in his enthusiasm. “I fear, rather, that _I _have been the one overly, ah, zealous.”

Kibito seems caught between embarrassment and fondness, and to Shin’s great delight the latter wins out. Still, he speaks as if it is an effort to force the words out. “Please do not consider that I may have reservations about – any of this. I have none. I am – I would that you regard me as – your willing instrument,” he breathes, and having lost his nerve, merely looks up at him with his face ruddy and his arms wrapped snugly around Shin’s waist. For this declaration, for his ardent desperation to please, Shin kisses him again, but he keeps a tight rein on his own passion, lest he find himself laying them both out right here in the grass before all Creation. Kibito returns his kiss but seems to sense his hesitation, allowing him to pull away after much too short a moment.

“I think,” Shin pants, made nearly insensible by his own state of ardor but still, somehow, trying to remain reasonable, “that we should continue this elsewhere.”

“As you wish,” Kibito says, and attempts to rise.

They both realize what this will entail, and are both alarmed simultaneously for, it turns out, different reasons. Shin, blissfully unaware as he was at the time, is now dreadfully cognizant of his position relative to Kibito’s, and although the thought has occurred to him previously that it might be pleasant for Kibito to hold him aloft this way, he is reconsidering somewhat given the loss of self-respect that has already resulted. Kibito, meanwhile, seems not the least bit perturbed about the conceptual indignity of the Supreme Kai being carried like a blushing bride, but aborts his attempt abruptly for another reason.

“Ah,” Kibito says, glancing down sheepishly, “It appears…”

His leg. Of course. Little wonder if it’s gone numb from its bent position alone, to say nothing of Shin having stood on it for leverage. Goodness, the two of them are lucky there’s no one around to witness their antics.

“Allow me,” Shin says, to distract them both from their predicament. He lifts himself, the movement drawing Kibito’s hands down his body pleasantly. He catches them with his own before Kibito can withdraw, and hovering now a few feet above him, holds steady and gives Kibito’s hands a gentle tug. 

“Forgive me,” Kibito says, allowing Shin to help him upright. It’s thoroughly unnecessary, he knows, but it eases the awkwardness of the situation somewhat, and then they are both alight, still facing each other, holding hands.

Silly. Almost unspeakable. And yet, for all that, Shin cannot banish the smile from his face. The two of them blushing and fumbling like fools. What a picture they must make! It’s almost a relief to be extricated from Kibito’s embrace, if only to regain some clarity of mind.

When they touch ground again, he gives Kibito’s hands a squeeze before he releases him, turning away to head towards their inner chambers. “Come along,” he says unnecessarily, just to have something to say. “I’m eager to continue this.”

“Surely…” Kibito trails off, following him at his customary half-pace. Shin casts a glance over his shoulder to see Kibito fidgeting, almost wringing his hands as he walks. “Surely, master, you don’t mean for us to…”

“To what, my dear?” He pauses at the edge of the doorframe, taking in Kibito’s nervous posture, his hands now clasped together as if to ground himself. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“None!” He approaches another step, allowing Shin to place his hands over his own and then turning them apart from each other, palms up, for Shin to place his between. “It’s only…” He is looking down at their intertwined hands rather than face his master’s gaze. “This seems so sudden. It almost feels surreal. As if I’m dreaming.”

“Have you had such dreams before?”

Kibito frowns and says nothing.

“I apologize, my friend. I don’t mean to tease you, or belittle your hesitation. Please tell me what’s troubling you.”

He shakes his head, but manages to meet Shin’s eyes. “I only…” He swallows and looks away again. “Impropriety?” he tries, and Shin isn’t quick enough to fully stifle the puff of laughter that escapes him. Thankfully, Kibito doesn’t look offended, even smiles weakly himself. “I cannot name my anxiety, master, it only seems so – unprecedented. Not,” he adds quickly, “that I feel uncomfortable at – at your. Affection. Rather, it feels – too good to be true?”

“I think I know what you mean,” Shin confesses. “But I can allay, at least, your fears of impropriety. You are my attendant, after all, and bound to my behest. You need only obey me,” he says, coy as he can manage. The effect is instantaneous, appreciable not only in Kibito’s timid smile but the subtle radiance of his ki. It even seems to put him at ease. Shin leads them inside without a further word.

Kibito follows him in. The room has been unused for – truly, he can’t recall. Decades? Centuries? When was it he last laid down? He spares this glancing thought none of his focus. At last, there is a reason to use it, and that reason holds his full attention now.

Shin backs up to the bed, sits on its edge when he feels his leg touch it. He finds himself unwilling even to look away from Kibito as he approaches, all aglow with his blush and again clasping his hands before him. From his vantage point, Shin has to lean back just to look at Kibito’s face.

“Won’t you sit?”

Kibito kneels on the floor.

Shin bites his lip in time to avoid laughing.

“You seem to enjoy this position,” he observes, reaching a hand out to cup Kibito’s cheek. He turns his face into Shin’s palm, his rueful smile becoming a kiss. Shin draws him closer this way, and at last Kibito touches him, both hands coming to rest on either side of him.

Kibito’s arm, Shin realizes, may be as long as Shin’s leg. Alas, the difference in their sizes has begun to take on a new and thrilling significance in his mind.

He wraps his arms around Kibito’s neck and pulls him into a kiss which feels somehow overdue. When they part, his breath has fled him again. No matter. “I believe,” he says. “This is the point at which we ought to undress.”

“As you wish, master,” Kibito says. Little wonder that being called ‘master’ in this context, in Kibito’s low rumble of a voice, is so thoroughly titillating. It’s inappropriate, perhaps, that he allow Kibito to maintain his formality of address in these circumstances, in which Shin feels hardly even to be the master of himself, but he’s finding it difficult to imagine denying Kibito _anything_ right now, especially what feels like a term of endearment.

To his surprise, Kibito pulls away from him to sit back fully, and reaching down without comment, pulls one boot from Shin’s foot and then the other. Of course, he needs no assistance removing his clothes – either of them, in fact, could easily disperse the garments instantly back into the very particles from which they are formed. As Kibito traces his hands slowly, reverently up Shin’s sides to work open the sash at his waist, however, it is clear this marks its own performance of submission, of devotion. This, Shin accepts in silence, attempting in the interim to calm his thundering heart. It proves futile, for as Kibito tugs the sash open and moves to unbutton his coat, Shin is forced to confront the fact that his body’s responses to his choice in activity today has had consequences they will very shortly be forced to confront.

Namely. He has been aware for some time now, though loath to acknowledge, the undeniable _fact_ that –

If Kibito opens his coat, Shin fears, he may be alarmed at what he finds. _Shin_ is slightly alarmed, for although he was aware that his body is capable of producing such – certain – secretions, it – he’s just not sure this is a normal _degree_ to –

He cannot quite process it himself, having never experienced such arousal before. Perhaps this is just what his body does when aroused.

He is fairly certain, however, given the sensation of unabating (and, in fact, only _increasing_) dampness on his skin, there is a significant chance it has visibly, undeniably soaked through his _pants_.

“Kibito,” he gasps out. “We. We are approaching a point at which,” _Control yourself, for goodness’ sake, you are the Supreme Kai!_ “I will ask you to be patient with me. I have no experience to draw on, here.”

“Nor I,” Kibito says. His broad hands very nearly encircle Shin’s waist as he draws them under his coat and then gently apart, tugging it open, and – with Kibito kneeling before him, he cannot even draw his knees together, and alas – yes, quite evident, a blotch of sodden fabric right at his crotch, how embarrassing. Shin manages not to _cower_, at least, though he wishes again that he had ever taken the time to try this himself. If he could only figure out if this was a reasonable response, for his body to be producing so much _fluid_, it is _humiliating_, and Kibito’s small ‘ah’ as he follows Shin’s eyes does absolutely nothing for his diminishing self-esteem.

“Well,” he says anyway, lightly (he hopes), “There can be no doubting my enthusiasm for our endeavor today.”

“Indeed,” Kibito says, absently, now _staring_ as if transfixed by the damned spot.

Shin catches his chin and redirects his gaze. “Perhaps,” he says, unable to banish the quiver in his voice, “I might see you undressed as well.”

“Of course,” Kibito says, and touches a hand to his own chest, and then he is naked, completely, without ceremony.

“Oh,” Shin hears himself say.

Kibito doesn’t look away, this time, but stays unmoving, allowing Shin to look over him. And, _stars_, what a view! That becoming deep pink in his cheeks and his ears is just as dark down his chest, even deepening as it spreads over his belly and thighs. And, between, and finer still, his member at full attention, and so darkly flushed it looks almost painful. Shin’s body reacts in continuing its already-successful bid to ruin his underclothes.

Kibito looks up at him as if petrified. Shin cannot summon words, yet, but neither can he subdue his yearning – well. ‘Heart’ might be overly generous at the moment. Suffice it to say certain parts of him, millennia-dormant, have begun voicing their desires, loudly and urgently, deep within him. He allows these instincts to guide him, as the side of him which had heretofore been attempting to maintain control has lapsed into shocked silence. He has to shift his weight and slide forward some in order to reach for Kibito, still kneeling frozen on the floor, and the position necessitates a rather lewd presentation of himself – Kibito is too far to reach easily, but too close to allow him to close his legs without kneeing him in the face. Still, given how far Kibito seems willing to humble himself, Shin reasons he can endure a less than dignified position.

His touch seems to revive Kibito, who leans up to meet him, and all too quickly they are engrossed in each other again. There is room for that chorus of desires to escalate into a cacophony, as Kibito’s reverent, almost hesitant touch becomes bolder, caressing up his sides and back, pulling him closer. Shin, for his part, gives every inch he can reach his thorough attention. Kibito is plenty large enough to be coaxed flush against him without getting off his knees, and Shin eventually manages to get him there, breaking away from his mouth to kiss along his neck, shoulder, chest – there is so much of him! And delightfully responsive, too, in a way that continually stokes the now-blazing heat yet growing inside him. Curiously enough Kibito seems keen to let no sound escape him, but bites his lip and shudders through it as if afraid to let slip how desperately excited he is by Shin’s attention. His whole body has begun to quiver, and his breaths are erratic and shallow as Shin gradually traces down his body.

Kibito has stopped leaning up to facilitate his explorations, but Shin is nonetheless determined to quest lower. His arms aren’t long enough to reach much beyond Kibito’s waist, but this doesn’t dissuade him. He has the whole broad, firm plane of Kibito’s stomach to keep him occupied, and kissing his chest is proving _almost_ distracting enough to keep him satisfied. He manages to reach Kibito’s hip with one hand, which must be a very sensitive area, given the yelp that escapes him when Shin’s thumb presses in beside his hipbone.

“Master,” Kibito rasps out. “If this is – what pleases you, I am utterly at your disposal. Only – perhaps–”

Shin sits away from his feast reluctantly, drawing Kibito down to his level again to kiss him, once, twice, before resting both hands on his shoulders. Reassuringly, he hopes. “Courage, my dear. It’s a struggle for me, too, to know where this desire will lead us, much less to name it. I will grant you anything that is within my power,” he says, not hitting the seductive purr he’d hoped for but nonetheless succeeding in making Kibito shiver visibly.

“I,” he tries. “I wish.” He sets his hands on Shin’s hips, firmly, and looks him in the eye with a sort of hopeless intensity. “I wish to offer you my mouth.”

“Ah, but how can you offer me something I’ve already claimed?” Shin murmurs, thumbing at Kibito’s lower lip.

Kibito’s eyes flick down, briefly, tellingly. “I,” he falters, “Rather…”

“I see,” Shin laughs. “You wish to stake a claim of your own?”

Kibito looks absurdly scandalized at that. “I would never presume-”

Shin interrupts him with a quick kiss. “Forgive me. I mean to tease you, not to discourage you. If you will allow me my own presumption?”

He dispenses with the remainder of his clothing. Kibito draws in a breath, sudden and shuddering, even almost flinches. He seems not to know where to look, as if Shin has any dignity left to preserve. He takes Kibito’s chin in his hand and directs his gaze by force.

“Is this what you seek?” His voice has pitched up, thinned out, as if he lacks the strength to speak. Kibito stares, trembling, and Shin chances his own glance downward to see just what his body has made of itself.

Not so shocking, really, are the physical affects. He may never have experienced them, but most of them are similar across species: the rise of blood to the surface of the skin, the protuberance of sexual organs and/or associated pleasure receptors, the necessary production of lubrication to prevent damaging such sensitive structures in any ensuing friction. It is the last of these which had been most alarming, but now that his clothes are out of the way, it seems less disproportionate than it had felt. His thighs and buttocks are rather slick, now, but it’s not as if the bedsheets are sodden. Well. From this angle, at least? When Shin looks up again, Kibito is biting his lip.

He leans back on the bed, away from Kibito’s too-alluring mouth, lest he delay them further – Shin is realizing that he would be content only to kiss Kibito, unceasingly, unto ages of ages, exactly as they are. Certain other parts of him would be unsatisfied with that alone, however. Certain parts he is currently, propped up on his elbows with his knees on either side of Kibito’s head, displaying perhaps too boldly despite his attendant’s profession mere moments ago. “Come up here,” Shin tries, “and claim what is already yours.”

He is just beginning to consider he may have somehow terribly misunderstood him when Kibito shifts his position, slightly, rearranging his stance as if bracing to rise – then, instead, his hand slides under Shin’s thigh and lifts – his knee comes up beside Kibito’s head, where it is treated to a shy kiss. “I must disobey you, master,” Kibito says. “Please punish me as you see fit.”

“Ah,” is all Shin manages, as Kibito holds him there, kissing first down his thigh and then jumping up above his belly, where the skin is so sensitive it’s almost ticklish, not stopping even as Shin’s fingers tangle into his hair and hold fast there, and as he works his way lower, at last, at last –

Alack that he never tried this himself! And damn his sensitive body for its reactions! It is ticklish, and he yelps, and he bucks his hips and squirms from it, and dear brave Kibito lets him, presses him again into the bed and continues, kissing and then _licking_ him, and his body shudders all over - ! He works slowly, at first, catching Shin’s eyes as if unsure, somehow, whether he is really allowed. It takes all of his effort to get the words out, “yes” and “good” and “continue”, as if the searing heat of so much pleasure has tied his tongue.

A little encouragement and Kibito is perfectly self-directed, which is fortunate, because Shin finds he has little sense as to how to predict his own reactions. His cries reach a pitch he has only heard himself make in pain, high, keening sounds counterpoint to the shock and ecstasy wracking his body. _How can it be?_ he thinks. _How can it be?_ Senselessly, uselessly, for it _is_, somehow – somehow, he even endures it, Kibito’s tongue pushing into him and his very being electrified by it, all things in his universe narrowed down to this point, to this very moment –

He knows there is an orgasm, a crescendo, at the end of all this, and finally he begins to feel he may not survive it. If this – if _this_, is what precedes it – ah, and he can’t take any more, surely – and why hasn’t it ended? Why won’t it end? What wretched contortions is his body undergoing, as he writhes and gasps – ‘please, please’, but for what? What is he asking? _How can this be?_ he thinks, helplessly, and, _Why won’t it end?_

It must. It must. There must be – and he feels it – there is an end, at last, he knows – the shuddering and gasping and pleading for – it must end – and he feels it, a force beyond and within him, a rising – it must –

“_Oh, stars, Kibito, please – please_ – ” And it’s happening, thank the Heavens, relief, release, a crashing-down, an end. He sobs, “_Yes_, please yes – ”

And _that_ is orgasm, conflagration and drowning.

A mere moment.

He heaves in a breath that finally seems to fill his lungs again.

And it is over. The harrowing ecstasy ebbs away, and he can breathe again, can uncurl his fingers from Kibito’s hair.

Oh, dear. His poor Kibito – his hair in such disarray as Shin has never seen, in ten thousand years, and his mouth and chin slick, and his expression – gratitude? He may be crying, or it may only be sweat and Shin’s - !

“I,” Shin croaks. He tries to swallow and finds his mouth is dry. Perhaps too much gasping and shouting in such a short span of time. He motions with his hand, instead: _come up here_.

To facilitate that, of course, he must unwrap his legs from Kibito’s neck.

The delirious intensity of orgasm has left him shaky and weak. How strange it all is. How much more tenderly he feels, even moment by moment, as Kibito rises at last from the floor and joins him on the bed – still somehow shy, even after taking him writhing and pleading to a new strata of Being!

Wordless though he is, Shin is able to coax Kibito to lie down, and finally, finally, there is the full lovely spread of him, hot to the touch and still trembling as Shin kisses him, his lips slick against Shin's and tasting, mostly, of salt; and the little sounds Kibito cannot quell, being thusly kissed and pressed down on his back, and – _goodness_, it’s no wonder mortals spend so much of their time this way!

He laughs to himself with his face pressed against Kibito’s neck, kisses his way up to his temple. Kibito gives him a quizzical look and Shin settles himself fully down on top of him, relishing the contact between their bodies.

“I was only considering – how humbling it is to be made helpless by mere sensation. Mortals make trivial diversion of it, while I was brought to tears. There is still much for me to learn, even within my own body.” He kisses Kibito’s ear. There is still no end to his desire, it seems, even now. What else has he neglected, which should already have been well-known to him? “I was amazed at the experience, though it was admittedly overwhelming.” Here he kisses Kibito’s forehead, and smoothing his hair back from his face, he murmurs, “Would you like to try it?”

He can feel as much as see the wrinkle of concern which creases Kibito’s brow. A moment’s pause, and then, “Do you mean to tell me, master, that you’d never experienced – such a thing, before?”

“Orgasm?” Ah, further discomfort in Kibito’s expression, and on the surface of his mind, as though he’s embarrassed even at the word. “As a matter of fact, I had not.”

Kibito seems rather disturbed by that, though his silence could mean many things.

“When would I have found the opportunity? There were much more pressing matters.”

“Certainly,” Kibito says, looking uncomfortable.

“I suppose you’ve more knowledge than I?”

There is no way for Kibito to look away, not with Shin so close before him. “I have… some knowledge, yes.”

“Well! You did seem undaunted by my reactions. I had assumed,” and he kisses his cheek, “as you are so adept at pleasing me,” and he kisses his mouth, “in all other things, that you had forged on by instinct alone. Have you had sex before?”

“I have not,” Kibito mumbles.

“And so, then,” Shin says. “You have come to orgasm by your own efforts alone?”

Kibito tries, unsuccessfully, to duck his head beside Shin’s shoulder. He says nothing, only growing pinker in the face.

“Is it really possible,” he continues, “that my virtuous, high-minded attendant has seen fit to indulge in such things in his spare time?”

Flustered, Kibito looks as if he will protest, but Shin cuts him off with a quick kiss which he succeeds with a second, lingering one. A third, for good measure, eases him pliant again, so that when Shin releases him in the end, Kibito only lies beneath him breathing shakily.

“Your competence is invaluable to me,” Shin says, “here as much as elsewhere. You have knowledge I have not. So I charge you to speak up, and to guide me, as I crudely and imperfectly join our bodies together again.”

Kibito doesn’t seem impressed at the teasing implication, even mildly alarmed, as if Shin truly refers to fusion. Perhaps, indeed, this is yet the source underlying his desire – to have Kibito _inside_ him again – but somehow it seems less and less likely the longer this goes on.

“I fear,” Kibito says, and swallows, and pauses. “I fear hurting you.”

“We shall progress slowly, then,” Shin says. “If, indeed, you wish to continue?”

Kibito nods solemnly.

It is enough, then, to kiss him some more and enjoy the heat shared body-to-body, Kibito gradually coming to sigh and shift underneath him, his hands caressing him in slow, firm strokes. Shin takes his time noting how Kibito catches his breath at some things and even, once and then a second time, lets out a small groan as Shin moves against him. The wetness between his legs has transferred to Kibito’s skin, leaving a smooth slick glide where Shin rubs against him. Caught between kisses with his lips parted, Kibito makes a small sound, an involuntary drawn-out ‘ah’ which sends a delightful thrill straight down his spine. He repeats the motion – he is too small to center his movements in a more sensitive area, but he is getting the hang of it still, up against Kibito’s side with his legs spread. Kibito makes to stifle the sound by biting his lip; simultaneously, Shin dips his head down to kiss him. Kibito catches his lower lip with his teeth and, to his surprise, Shin enjoys it immensely. His sputter of attempted apology is cut short when Shin tightens his fingers in Kibito’s hair and gives him a firm tug. Breathless, Kibito allows himself to be kissed, deeply, again. Finally, though, Shin must sit up and assess, with his eyes instead of his overeager body, his attendant’s state.

He looks – wonderful. He looks _debauched_. His hair is a mess and his lips are swollen with kissing and, despite his repeated attempts to the contrary, he is unable to keep from vocalizing when Shin slides further down his body, leaving a truly obscene shine in a stripe down his belly. His eyes glaze over as Shin rocks against him there, his hands coming to rest on Shin’s hips. They are very close to aligned, now, and although he is looking forward to _that_ aspect of this experiment, he is finding it frustrating to be unable to reach Kibito for a kiss at the same time.

He resolves to make short work of joining them if he can, and encourage Kibito to sit up and kiss him as he does. It might be possible, he thinks, if Kibito curls in to meet him, and he arches his back… Nothing else, he realizes with a jolt, is on his mind at all right now. Nothing else concerns him as pressingly as deciding how to kiss his attendant while he – that is, while they. Have sex. Which shouldn’t be difficult, he believes, and after all they seem to be compatibly equipped. Certainly, he reasons, _it could be made possible_ that Kibito penetrates him, although realistically he isn’t sure how concerned he ought to be about the difference in their sizes or anatomy... It doesn’t, however, seem so intimidating that he shares Kibito’s fear that he could be hurt in the attempt.

Kibito’s irrepressible enthusiasm for Shin’s pleasure has an almost sedative effect on him, Shin notices, for his attendant seems mesmerized by the movement of his body as he reseats himself further, ungracefully despite his efforts. He moves as if dazed, his big hands on Shin’s thighs and hips only following his lead, watching with half-lidded eyes as he attempts, at last, to make some kind of pleasurable contact between their genitals. It is successful, in fact, right from the outset, and neither as intensely nor as insipidly as he was afraid it might be. It feels like, he thinks, it should feel. Wet and hot and slick and Kibito’s shape, its almost-softness and its gradual taper into a ridged girth at its base, which is very pleasant indeed; and which, as he slides lower against it, elicits an endearing hiccupping gasp from Kibito. He ruts into it unsteadily, bracing himself with his hands on Kibito’s forearms. They hold each other this way, as Shin picks his way toward a sort of rhythm, and bit by bit Kibito assists him, rolling his hips and pressing him down more firmly into it.

Shin is grateful, now, for the unrelenting slickness between them, though as he repositions himself once again in anticipation of attempting, somehow, penetration, he reflects that the bedsheets will certainly need to be replaced when they are through. As he holds himself up to consider an advantageous angle of approach, Kibito’s hands tighten somewhat on his hips. He wears an expression of incoherent but distinct apprehension, enough that Shin pauses to let him catch his breath to speak.

“Master. Please. We must – you must – please go slowly.”

He feels a grin split his face. “I appreciate your sustained concern for my well-being. Perhaps,” he says, placing one hand on Kibito’s and beginning to guide it inward along his thigh. “You might assist me in preparing myself?”

“Ah,” Kibito chokes. He seems to be struggling to breathe. “Certainly. Yes.”

He takes his cue, obediently begins to press one finger inside – alas, they lock eyes, and Shin shudders all over and – and, there, too, he shudders! – and Kibito looks away, thank the Heavens, for Shin can only imagine what expression he must be making. It is entirely new, entirely overwhelming – why is it he never even considered trying it himself! He has muscles and nerves of which he clearly has an utterly incomplete and inadequate knowledge. What is going on inside him? _How deep does it _go_?_ he thinks absurdly, struck quite stupid by the sensation of Kibito’s finger(!) slowly sliding up into him(!).

“Oh,” he hears himself saying. “That. Ah. Kibito. I.”

Kibito watches him with his mouth open, shallowly gasping, as though he too is overwhelmed with the sensation and amazed by it. At each answering twitch and pulse inside him, Kibito moves his finger, deeper and then back out again, a positive feedback loop perfectly illustrated. At times it seems as if they both are only passengers to it, an incomprehensible rhythm known only between their eloquent bodies. At times Shin comes back to himself in such clarity he perceives the whole of Creation, and the two of them within it. Kibito staring up at him as if spellbound, looking almost disbelieving; then his eyes fall to the place where his finger disappears inside Shin’s body and a new wave of tremors overtakes him, within and without. It is too much to endure for long, especially now that he knows what will happen if he loses control of himself: oblivion, and a lot of shouting Kibito’s name.

He focuses on his remaining faculties of speech, though stringing words together feels like resisting an immense gravity. “Wonderful. It’s. It feels incredible. Only.”

‘Only,’ and Kibito halts immediately, so terribly earnest Shin laughs – feels himself clench around Kibito’s finger still half-in him – is there nothing which does not make his body shudder with greed for more stimulation! – and his laugh cuts off into a sort of whimper. He cannot subdue himself, in gaiety or in lust! So, giggling foolishly and feeling, too, the involuntary twitches inside himself unrelenting and continually, maddeningly distracting -

“Only it is time, I think, for a second finger. If you please,” he adds in a rush, unable to resist craning down for another kiss. Kibito’s finger slips out of him as he moves – before he can fully lean down, Kibito rises to meet him. As they kiss, Kibito’s hand presses once more between his legs, three fingers flat against him and rubbing circles there, so that Shin gasps and moans into the kiss and is overtaken by it. Continuing to kiss proves unsustainable, for he cannot concentrate on anything else as, agonizingly slowly, Kibito begins to press two – just the tips of his fingers – but it is plenty – but somehow he feels his body is ready for it – but must he go so _slowly_?

He has dropped his head against Kibito’s shoulder, unable either to speak or to be silent, making sounds which could almost begin words if only he could form a vowel sound besides ‘oh’ and ‘ah’. He manages the word ‘yes’, and stays with that – it is sufficient, for now, as still too-gradually Kibito presses deeper inside him, kissing his neck as he does. _“Yes, yes, ah_,” is all he can say, until Kibito makes it to the second knuckle and he manages, in an almost-sob, “_please._”

This is distressing enough, evidently, to make Kibito draw his fingers out again, and so Shin gathers the strength to lift himself into a position slightly better evincing his ongoing (_relative_, at least, given his lack of prior experience!) wherewithal.

“Kibito,” he starts. He takes in his attendant’s stunned and bedraggled appearance with a strange satisfaction. He is enjoying, especially, the still-progressing blush evident down Kibito’s chest and – ah. Two things catch his attention, now that he is sitting upright again. Firstly, Kibito’s hand still poised to press fingers in him again (and now, even without the intrusion, he can feel himself shudder internally at the promise of more) is unsurprisingly slick from contact with his body. Noteworthy is he realization that, assisted only with encouraging stimulation, his body has produced enough additional fluid that its excess has run down the length of Kibito’s forearm and into the crook of his elbow. One must wonder whether there is a record of Kais’ sexual habits and capabilities somewhere, and whether Shin ought to be concerned for himself.

Secondly. Much more pressingly.

“Ah,” he says. “Goodness.”

What he had _thought_, mistakenly, was the fullness of Kibito’s member is. Merely its sheath? Or, in some other way, an auxiliary part? Beginning at the tip of it, and down a third of its length, the dark pinkish protrusion has split, revealing an almost violet-colored protuberance half again as long, wet and raw-looking. A sympathetic thrill stings him; it looks painful, or obscene, or incongruous somehow. An internal organ come out unintentionally.

_That belongs inside_, he thinks, too clearly, for Kibito jolts underneath him at the thought. As he watches, the wet purple thing pulses against his belly, extending and then retracting slightly, seemingly of its own accord. He meets Kibito’s eyes again to see the dazed look has left him, his expression now apprehensive and embarrassed. Speechless still, he looks apologetic, as if unable to account for himself. Silly, really, when Shin is the one literally dripping all over him as he begs to be fingered. Perhaps a more coherent negotiation is in order.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Kibito says. “Fine. It. I. I’m unable to control it, I apologize-”

“Please don’t.” Shin shifts to consider it again. Overall, it’s not much larger than he’d anticipated, and the secondary protrusion is a bit slimmer than two of Kibito’s fingers. It looks to be producing its own lubrication, as well, albeit to a lesser degree (and made utterly redundant by Shin’s ample head start). He can anticipate no practical reason, really, to be concerned about it going inside him. “If you are prepared, and if it interests you, I would like for you to penetrate me.”

Kibito chokes. Is it so unanticipated?

“I will not let you hurt me,” he says softly.

He says no more, as Kibito palpably relaxes beneath him, regaining some of his disciplined calm and following Shin’s gaze with a more heuristic intent. He adjusts his hand on Shin’s hip; the other, still wet from Shin’s body, he presses into the base of himself, coaxing it to jut upwards at a more suitable angle. This seems to have the added effect of minimizing its independent movement, though Shin can see easily enough (and, raw as they both are, he can feel almost as sharply) that it is taking discipline to keep it from twitching under the press of his fingers.

“Very good, my dear,” Shin purrs, and lays his hands on Kibito’s chest, as much to enjoy the shiver which passes through him as to adjust his own posture. “You’re doing wonderfully.”

As expected, Kibito cannot respond, though he ducks his head a little at the praise, another shiver passing through him. His reverent gaze will not meet Shin’s, but Shin is content to watch with his own face thus unobserved as he finds – there – where their bodies join but do not become one. And, at last – it is wetter, and hotter, than Kibito’s tongue had been, and it keeps _going_, and he makes no attempt to stifle the throaty sounds which well up out of him as he – deeply, it slides in him like it was made to – oh, but it does stretch him open, so bit by bit the uncontrollable spasms inside himself become – not painful, exactly, not yet, but –

“Master,” Kibito gasps. “Oh, please-”

“A little more,” he hisses. There is no space in him for breath, no controlling the vicious hunger now burning in him, almost too hot to withstand. He eases himself up a bit and before he can draw breath he is full again, almost to his limit but not quite, not yet, and he will not surrender now, not with Kibito trembling underneath him, faithful and willing and – and this is what their bodies are meant to _do_, this is what they are _for_, and it is exactly as it should be, even if, yes, he is just _slightly_ sore now from the stretch. “It feels good, Kibito, please stay with me-”

“Tight,” Kibito grits out, his brow knitted and his teeth bared as if in pain. Shin tries to lift himself off it some, and he succeeds at least in easing the tension in Kibito’s face. An expression like relief comes over him and he manages to meet his eyes. “Please – forgive my – my lack of faith, I only – please, I beg your indulgence again-”

“Anything. Anything, Kibito. Name it, and it is yours.”

“Only – please – it isn’t hurting you?”

“Dear heart.” Shin sinks down on it again, just a little. Kibito hisses and keeps still, though Shin can feel his muscles tense against the urge to pull him down further, to thrust up into him. He feels, absurdly, both powerful and helpless. “Do I seem to be hurting?”

Kibito does not answer him.

“Is it hurting you?” he asks, softened somewhat by Kibito’s subdued reaction.

“No,” Kibito says quickly. “I – it’s-” and Shin’s patience wears out, and he drops himself onto it fully, as deeply as it will go, and Kibito’s back arches and his head presses back into the bed and his mouth falls open, soundlessly.

There is a limit to the space inside him, as of course he knew objectively. Nonetheless it is instructive to have it demonstrated. Being filled this way, surely, would be pleasure enough, but then it is Kibito underneath him, now again stunned, in ecstasy, struggling to maintain his millennia-long campaign to please his master in everything, to anticipate his every whim and act to fulfill it, to please him, to please him –

“Goodness. Yes. Oh. More, yes, please,” he says, with increasing urgency now as he feels once more the rising heat and pressure which (he now knows) precede orgasm, and as his priorities are forcefully redirected to achieving it. Kibito obliges him, gradually, stutteringly at first and then, as he does not react in pain or hesitation but instead escalating, reckless, disjointed urging – each word now broken into its constituent syllables, paced apart by the rhythm of their bodies moving in tandem – harder, more deeply, his hands on Shin’s hips guiding him down into each upward thrust. Shin’s coordination is desperately lacking, but Kibito kindly makes up for it, finally having been convinced either by his pleading or by his obvious incompetence at taking the reins himself.

He gives himself over to it, moaning and gasping and messy, and Kibito follows him, obedient to the end, as with the last of his resolve Shin grits out – “Yes – yes – come with me – come with me – ”

Kibito’s face registers shock and even disbelief and the steady pace of his thrusts becomes erratic and, just as the wracking ecstasy lessens its hold on Shin’s body, so too Kibito’s body and his own come unjoined from one another. The effect is nearly opposite unfusing from Kibito-Kai, for as Shin falls to lay panting against Kibito’s chest the acute sensitivity still overwhelming him creates a blurred self-perception: his skin hot and sweat-damp and his limbs weak and his nerves raw and Kibito, one arm along the length of Shin’s back and the other lying across his thighs, holding him loose and relaxed but heavy and firm, catching his breath just as slowly, both of them seeming to blur into one another in Being if not in body.

He feels no urge to speak, or to move, for some time after that. Insatiably, though, impossibly, the prickle of desire turns his head that his lips administer kisses to Kibito’s face, and catching strands of hair in his mouth he sits up, spent and lightheaded.

Beneath him, Kibito lies still, allowing Shin to prop himself up on his chest. His hair is mussed and sticking to his cheeks and forehead with sweat. The heady, synchronous resonance of their energy together and Kibito’s expression – soft, contented, vulnerable – it seems to him harmonious, the great Oneness of all things microcosmic in their perfectly balanced dissymmetry. After all, all things ruinous and fortuitous and infinitely chaotic, here they are together, in an entirely new way. It is right. It is wholly correct and even, perhaps, serendipitous; Kibito his guard and attendant, companion and advisor, confidant, once one with him completely and now, at last, his own. Beloved. This, Shin feels fully, in a deep and previously (but no more) untapped well within himself. Beloved.

He takes his time brushing Kibito’s hair back from his face, and finally sufficiently acclimated to the affection, Kibito only lets him, closing his eyes and eventually catching Shin’s fingers with a kiss. It does not feel frivolous at all, this tenderness, and so Shin does not rush them. There is more, eventually, that must be done, as the great celestial Powers revolve, independently, about them. Shin knows too well that no peace is eternal. Yet there is time enough for this.


End file.
